


Fall of the Dawn

by Haestia



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Dawnguard, Dawnguard DLC, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Human/Vampire Relationship, Inspired by Skyrim, Love, Other, Post-Dawnguard DLC, Retelling of Dawnguard DLC, Skyrim References, Slow Romance, Tragic Romance, True Love, Vampire Family, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haestia/pseuds/Haestia
Summary: Alesan the Scourer wakes up in a cold cell with almost no memory of his former ongoings. Behind the bars he sees his faithful friend and Dawnguard Warrior, Blaise Silver-Slayer. Once Blaise tells Alesan he is no longer part of Dawnguard, a group of vampire hunters, Blaise brings Alesan to Solitude city where he meets his new allies and enemies. He fights to become Jarl Elisif's right hand and to clean his name from past sins. However, due to his lack of memory, Alesan has no idea what crimes he committed. Will his memories return? What if he is no longer the person he used to be? What are the intentions of people around him?• A fanfiction inspired by Bethesda's game, Skyrim. The names "Alesan" and "Blaise" are taken from the characters in the game. The rest of the characters are mine. Races and places belong to Skyrim creators. •





	Fall of the Dawn

"Alesan?"

A silent, muffled voice. He heard it. Barely, but it was there. Memories. A friend. Joy. No. There was...nothing. Everything is dark. Everything is blank. And everything is so...weak. Lack of strength, not even enough to open eyes. Body is limp, hanging on shackles that are locked around his wrists. Cold metal cuts deep into oddly warm skin. The feeling is almost comfortable. Comfort with a hint of mad nostalgia.

"Alesan!"

He hears the voice again. This time it's louder. And sharper. All clear. He lets out a grunt, shivering slightly in strain. Body responds with an ache. He can feel a dull pain in those stiff bones and flat, lanky, almost non-existent muscles. Finally, he squints and tries to open his tired eyes for a few seconds, letting in a dim light of this narrow space.

"Com'on, mate!"

That word, mate, rang like a warning bell that once sent shivers down Alesan's spine. Waves of incredibly hot yet utterly cold sweat used to cover his sallow skin. Familiarity of that word and voice finally reached out to him and Alesan weakly opened his eyes, though they were still heavy with specks of an exhausting sleep. It was enough that he could see a man who used that word more often than he should.

In front of him, behind rusty, iron bars, stood a tall and broad man. Alesan immediately recgonised piercing blue gaze accompanied by strands of short brownish hair. That could only be Blaise. A friend older than Alesan's identity, before either of them chose what to believe in and took a stand in this vast, cruel world. It was a friend whose presence was accompanied with childhood laughter, like a shadow that was always there for him. 

Alesan looked around to see where he was only to grow confused. Walls of a cell were round and made of limestone that was once perhaps even white if not gray. Now, nearly black painted with flecks of moisture and torch's soot. Ceiling was made of rods similar to the bars of the cell, though they were much thicker and looked even more dreadful as they were covered in a filthy layer of rust. However, there was a different image behind these rods. One Alesan missed greatly as if it was absent for decades. Sunlight has touched his bruised, scarred skin, broken like glass, tired like a hermit. His face full of dirt was illuminated and revealed like a long awaited truth.

As Alesan's senses awakened he had to lower his gaze when he suddenly felt ice-cold liquid below his bony knees, stinging like glass shards deep into his bones. He was standing in a muddy water, the scent of it was anything but pleasant. In fact, it was hideous. The sharp smell of urine and acid-like smell of rotten food, all combined with something even more repugnant that Alesan could not bother any longer to identify. This was already enough to conclude that he did not leave this room for as long as he was here. And he really wondered for how long they were keeping him here, restrained like a wild animal.

Alesan shook his head slightly, feeling the numb pain throbbing through his skull. It was the sunlight and weakness veined deep in his muscles. He felt disgusted looking at his scrawny legs. He couldn't even fully stand on his feet, so he let his full weight be held by shackles cased around his wrists. Alesan desperately tried to remember something. Anything at all. Nothing. Nothing came to his mind. He could only remember his early life. The cold winds and piles of snow. Alesan tried to push away his thoughts, fearing he might start shivering and panicking. However, he could figure the answers stood right in front of him.

"Blaise?"

Alesan's voice was merely a whisper, cracked completely. It resembled a howl of a dying dog. Soundless and miserable. He lowered his head, ashamed that he sounds like that in front of this mighty warrior, his friend.

"I am here, Alesan."

Blaise answered reassuringly with a warm note to his voice. It was good to know that voice still hasn't lost empathy and energetic optimism, which was often rather foreign to Alesan. Nevertheless, Alesan always appreciated Blaise for his kind attitude. One always needs someone like him at some point. 

"Why am I here?"

Alesan asked. His voice still sounded like a skeever on brink of death. Blaise hesitated, averted his gaze, as if avoiding Alesan's gaze, almost as if he was trying to think of an answer. Clearly, he would notice evident irritation in his friend's voice. After all, he would have felt the same for waking up in a cell all shackled up.

"Easy now, Alesan. Priority is to make sure you are strong enough and well-rested."

The firm voice of which Blaise spoke would frighten a boy, or at least a novice at Dawnguard, but it could never affect Alesan. That shackled man felt a rush of tainted warmth inside his ribcage, anger that was preparing to boil into fury if he wasn't given a proper answer.

"I am shackled in a cell like a beast. Do you really expect me to remain calm and wait?! Judging by the stench of the cell, I have been waiting for far too long! Answer me, Blaise!"

Alesan was not a beast, but he certainly sounded like one as he growled at Alesan with his broken voice. The blue eyes of his friend softened, but there was this glint of disapproval in them. Alesan knew very well Blaise did not like temper Alesan too often let it take better of him.

"You were on a mission for Dawnguard. You...Your unit...The mission failed. Everyone from your unit were slaughtered by those...beasts."

Blaise finally spoke after long moment of silence. He lowered his eyes that now got a pensive shade of blue. For the first time, Alesan noticed these eyes were framed with the lines of experience granted by age. His friend was older than he remembers. Could his eyes be deceiving him? For how long has he been...what? Asleep? Gone?

"Everyone, but you. Your attackers, apparently, haven't noticed you were still alive. Considering precision of a crossbow bolt embeded into their master's eye, we assumed you gathered strength and shot their leader. Soon enough, we came to rescue you and your group, but we got ambushed once we reached you." 

Blaise said with a heavy voice. For a moment, he stopped, sighing as he recalled that bloodbath. He continued only after he finally locked his eyes with Alesan's.

They were well prepared. And it was too late." 

Alesan closed his eyes for a moment, a fresh wave of memories occupying his mind, as another missing piece to a very complex puzzle. The names. An entire list of names. They, his comrades, were all dead now.

"After that, the vampires took you away before we managed to get out of the Dimhollow Crypt. The scene at the crypt was...horrific. And you were gone." 

Alesan felt ill urge rising, as if he might vomit. He shivered when he felt thorns of stress crossing over his skull. He was taken away by vampires. Of course, he heard of the things they have done to their victims. Everything of them was a nightmare. It was like dying an honourless death.

"After five years we managed to finally find you and bring you home. Those vampires...they were torturing you. The state you were in when we saved you... Most of the members of Dawnguard thought you are going to die."

Blaise said, lowering his gaze again. He was trying to be careful, not to overwhelm his friend. Alesan nodded after a few long silent beats and raised his gaze, all armoured in an emotionless mask.

"And you?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised by Alesan's question. He shrugged, letting his shoulder roll in a characteristic way before he simply answered.

"I prayed to Stendarr."

If he were not as weak, Alesan would have laughed even. Blaise knew full well Alesan was not one to put his fate in hands of gods. He would always say that if there were any gods, they are nothing but cruel. They wouldn't have let him be born and raised by frozen winds in the first place then.

"Then, my friend, you were obviously hoping I'd die."

Blaise smirked and shook his head at Alesan's remark. He knew all these years of trying to make his friend easen up his burdens and pray were never going to latch onto him. Though, he truly believed faith gives you strength, because even if it is false, at least it gives you hope.

"But you didn't. You survived. You proved once again what kind of fighter you are."

Blaise smiled weakly. Alesan wasn't smiling. He wasn't remembering anything of this. 

"Yes, worthy of gods and shackled like those who defy them. Why?"

He asked. His voice wasn't so weak anymore. Still, it did not intimidate Blaise. In fact, the warrior smiled at Alesan. 

"Cautios as always. It is good to know you are still not a dull old blade."

He stopped teasing when he saw Alesan wasn't amused at all anymore. Eventually, he sighed and told Alesan the rest of the story.

"The vampires used you as a...thrall. For a long time, you were what they call a vampire cattle. In other words...they fed on you."

Blaise stopped talking for a second when he noticed Alesan's features grew sickly pale. 

"Is that the reason" Alesan spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, "why I can't remember anything?"

He tried to hold the disgusting feeling inside his throat. Half wanting to vomit and half to cry. It seemed as a burning desire to let it all out, yet the cold wall of hate was taller and stronger. Alesan was not one to show weakness as a warrior. It was a lesson thought well by a life he led.

"Priest of Stendarr concluded so, yes."

Alesan nodded at Blaise's answer. He felt warm rays of Sun on his head and realised it was freshly shaven. It was an odd feeling, unfamiliar. But he couldn't remember himself with a long hair. Certainly, it used to be longer. He wondered whether he looked like a beggar, or maybe even as an old Hagraven.

"Please, continue."

Alesan whispered. He knew he did not sound convincing to Blaise. And Blaise, as always, was very considerate, almost sometimes to the point of annoyance.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't treat me like an Altmer child, Blaise."

Alesan snapped at him. Blaise frowned slightly and shook his head. However, he continued as asked.

"When the vampires realised you have more potential than being just a food, they used you as their servant, their knight. You were killing in their name. You served them."

Blaise stopped once again. Alesan showed no reaction. But there was a storm inside him. It was the storm of emotions. All of them dreadful and a potential to go mad. It was shame, helplessness, weakness, confusion and hate.

"For how long?"

Alesan asked, trying to make his voice sound firm enough to make Blaise answer him. But the warrior in front of him hesitated. Still, no matter what, Alesan would hear that answer.

"For how long, Blaise?"

"Five years."

The words were spoken and Alesan felt as if a boulder of despair crushed onto him. Five years of his life with no memory. Five years of his life were simply lost. As if they never existed. As if someone plunged him from that horrific night into the future. How cruel the gods can be?

"When we captured you, you were almost like an animal. You were so aggressive we had to use Mages' help to calm you. Through these few weeks you were treated by a few Vigilants of Stendarr. They cured your vampirism which was, fortunately, not fully developed. They saved you. Those shackles are here only because you are still unstable. I am sorry. I was trying to make Isran change his mind. You can't be treated like animal. You are not an animal what so ever."

Blaise's voice almost got an edge of anger. Indeed, he was really frustrated by their leader's method of treating one of them. Alesan was a Dawnguard Warrior, after all. He did not deserve this.

"I understand Isran's cautiousness. I would do the same. What happens now?"

Alesan didn't want to waste time on feelings. He had to focus on this situation. He should be thankful they saved him. It felt like a duty.

"If this were in my power, I would have taken off your shackles immediately. But I can't do anything yet. Tomorrow, at noon, I am taking you to Solitude. Don't ask questions now, I will explain everything to you. In a few hours, a priest will check on you and perhaps Isran will release you, give you a room and warm bed to rest. That is the least you deserve, my friend."

Alesan sighed. Burden of life never felt as heavy as now. Cold metal irritated his skin. As if he was a criminal to be taken to a scaffold. Perhaps he was really lucky to be alive after all that happened.

"Thank you, Blaise."

Blaise smiled, waved a goodbye to Alesan and walked away. Alesan was left alone. In the cold cell. 

He gathered some strength to fully stand on his feet. Alesan straightened himself and felt how two or three discs in his spine cracked. His entire body was stiff like a pine tree in Falkreath.

He was never weak like this. Hunger appeared soon enough, howling like a wolf. But somehow he couldn't figure out if that was hunger for something to eat or to...he doesn't know...to do something? He was confused. He knew he hadn't felt it for the first time. It was a hunger, thirst for action, adrenaline and fight. Perhaps, he still possessed some grain of will, a seed to grow into a mighty oak. But the call of death was still too inviting. Perhaps, it is for the best they left him shackled. After all, he read about these things, a hypothetical recovering from being a vampire thrall. Rare cases were of those who survived the entire process, and more often than not, there were permanent consequences. Alesan wondered how will that manifest on him. Depression? Traumatic flashbacks? Hallucinations? It's a roullete.

To distract himself from crippling dark thoughts, Alesan tried to remember anything of his past. The only thing he remembered of what Blaise told him was that night. When his unit attacked a group of vampires in Dimhollow Crypt. He remembered the names again.

Alesan closed his eyes tightly. The pictures of their torn bodies appeared. He saw that. Limbs everywhere. Organs right next to him, splattered in puddles of blood on a stone floor. Heart. Kidney. Tongue. Stomach. Eye. Horrible sight. Gazes of his men, like of glass. A hint of despair, fear and agony remained forever frozen on their faces. 

He inhaled the air around him. He knew he could only smell his own piss, backwater, sewer and stale dampness. But he didn't smell that. His nostrils were filled with heavy smell of blood of his friends. He could see blood on his hands. Blood was everywhere. And it drove him mad.


End file.
